


'Tis the season

by AirgiodSLV



Series: 'Tis the season [1]
Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-08
Updated: 2008-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“So,” Gabe said conversationally, sitting down next to him. “You got yourself knocked up.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis the season

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://foxxcub.livejournal.com/profile)[**foxxcub**](http://foxxcub.livejournal.com/), who asked for a fairytale AU with no William Beckett and no mpreg unless it was Spencer. This is almost definitely not what she had in mind.

Spring was coming. Spencer could feel it in the slight warmth of the breeze stirring his hair, the crunch of the fading frost beneath his feet as he jumped from a leaf onto the ground.

Brendon was having the same thought, apparently, because he leapt down from the dried-out stem of a sapling and announced, “Spring!”

Spencer spread his wings wide, inspecting them for the first traces of emerald speckled amongst the pink. He gave a few inquisitive flaps, and the dust gathered thicker, running like veins along the lines of his wings. “It’ll be pollination season soon,” he guessed, joining Ryan on the broad, flat leaf where he was reclining.

“I want a seed pod this year,” Ryan said, eyes closed, face tilted back into the watery, early-spring sunlight. His wings moved a little, stirring sympathetically with the rustle of the breeze. “Early. I don’t want to wait.”

Spencer flapped his wings a few more times, but it was still too soon in the season, and he wasn’t turned on enough even in a general, vaguely horny-feeling sense to shake any of the dust free. “Soon,” he repeated, shifting over automatically as Brendon climbed up beside them, balancing on the springy edge of the stem.

“Who are you going to ask?” Brendon piped up, wriggling until both Spencer and Ryan reluctantly shifted again to make room for him between them. Brendon was excited about spring in general, as usual, probably much more so than he was about the imminent pollination season.

Winter was Spencer’s favorite season, when everything was cold and still and waiting, blanketed in white, without the hectic buzz of spring or the lazy, lethargic apathy of summer, but arguably it wasn’t the best time to be a fairy. Spencer was looking forward to some variety in his nut-and-seed-centric diet.

Ryan’s eyes cut sideways, and Spencer had to take a minute to remember the conversation before he caught up. “No,” he said firmly. “I love you, but I’m not having a seed pod with you.”

Ryan looked slightly put out, but mostly like he’d already known that would be the answer. “You wouldn’t have to carry it,” he pointed out.

“No,” Spencer said again. He closed his eyes, soaking up the faint rays of sunlight, and added, “I’ll bet Jon would, though.”

“Hmm,” Ryan replied thoughtfully. Their leaf did a little spastic shiver which meant that Brendon was moving again, and Spencer flattened one hand against the spongy surface to keep his balance.

“Spring,” Brendon said happily, hopefully settled again. “Sunshine. Flowers. Insects.”

Brendon had always been rather taken with insects. “Allergies,” Spencer reminded him, because Brendon had yet to meet fairy dust that didn’t make him sneeze. It was the main reason Spencer hadn’t recommended him to Ryan, and probably why Brendon himself hadn’t volunteered. He didn’t know if Brendon could hold his breath and stop sneezing for long enough to make a seed pod. Spencer was sort of idly curious about how that would turn out if he tried.

“Green things,” Brendon countered. “Blossoms. The season of courtship and love.”

From somewhere to their left, Patrick’s voice floated clearly up the hill. “Pete, I am not having a seed pod with you!”

“Courtship and love,” Spencer agreed solemnly. “And involuntary incubation.”

~*~

Nearly everyone was about over the next few days, forgoing winter hiding places to bask in the warming weather. Spencer was briefly wistful for the cozy stillness of the past months, but it was still good to see everyone again. Visiting neighbors was much less likely to occur when your wings froze the second you poked your head out from underground.

Spencer saw Greta in the early afternoon, her hair cascading in golden curls over her shoulders and a wreath of white flowers in her hair. “Already?” he asked, doing a double-take to check the color of her wings.

They were still milky-white, floating like gauze behind her back. She flushed when he asked, though, cheeks turning rosier and plump with her smile. “Not yet,” she admitted. “It’s not stopping us from trying.”

“Victoria?” he guessed, and was rewarded with another happy blush splotching her white throat.

“Check with me in another few days,” she said, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before she moved past. Brendon caught her only a few feet away, swinging her around until she was laughing too hard to breathe, and from the cajoling tone of his voice, he’d made the same assumption Spencer had.

He saw Butcher spread out sunbathing on a nearby patch of grass, which meant that everyone in their little community was now present and accounted for, save for a few. “Where’s William?” he asked Ryland, climbing up onto the toadstool where Ryland was currently perched, gangly legs crossed and a piece of straw left over from the winter sticking contemplatively out of his mouth.

“Probably still hiding out,” Ryland answered, removing the piece of straw and gesturing with it to somehow encompass the meadow full of fairies. “You know how he is. We probably won’t see him until after the crocuses bloom. I haven’t seen Gabe, either.”

Spencer nodded. William was the only person who disliked the coming of spring as much as Spencer did, and for nearly the same reasons. He disliked winter even more, though, and tended to burrow until well after the final frost had melted on the grass.

“Do you know where Ryan’s gone?” he asked, trying to spot the familiar red-and-black pattern of Ryan’s wings.

Ryland sucked thoughtfully on his bit of straw. “I heard Brendon sneeze from that direction a while back,” he offered, gesturing to the shadowy cave of a shrub, just starting to sprout fresh buds of brown and green.

It was as good a tip as any. Even if Brendon wasn’t actually with Ryan now, he probably had been before, and Spencer might run into someone else over there who would know. “Thanks,” he told Ryland, flitting down again and setting off for the shrub.

“Don’t mention it,” Ryland called behind him. “And if you see Alex, tell him to bring me some of those little white truffle things.”

Spencer made a vague mental note, but he was already busy poking his way into the shrub. It was close-knit and dim, the sunlight not yet able to penetrate beneath the thorny branches, and he couldn’t see far in front of him past the spiraling core at the center.

“Ryan?” he called, seeing a shadow and glimmer as he pushed one of the heavier branches out of his way, and then he realized what he was seeing and came to a complete halt.

Ryan was lying on his stomach, wings spread out to their fullest extent on either side of him, head pillowed on his arms and a blissful expression on his face. Jon was standing at his feet, his wings beating gently, enough to swirl the air around them into a light breeze. All around them, dancing in the whirlwind, was the purple glitter of Jon’s fairy dust.

Spencer’s wings snapped open reflexively, helping him backpedal. “Shit,” he said out loud, and Ryan’s eyes snapped open, widening at once. “I’m sorry.” Jon stopped moving, surprised, his face blurry through the haze of swirling dust. Spencer wondered if this was perhaps the reason Brendon had been sneezing earlier. “Sorry,” he said again, already backing up.

The sunlight seemed a little brighter when he re-emerged, and he blinked for a few seconds, letting his eyes adjust. Victoria came over to stand next to him, her lips curled up a little. “Walked in on a cross-pollination?” she guessed.

Spencer scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Ryan,” he confirmed. He’d done it before, of course; there weren’t many places for fairies to hide where they wouldn’t be found, and they were all hugely social by nature. The fact that it was Ryan, though, made him feel just a little more horrified.

“Hey,” Victoria said sympathetically, squeezing his arm. “Look on the bright side. At least he wasn’t naked, right?”

Spencer shuddered. “Thank god for that.” His wings trembled a little along with the rest of him, and a few specks of dust shook loose, drifting down to disappear into the grass beneath their feet.

“Hey,” Brendon said, popping up beside them and bouncing a little on his toes. Then he sneezed.

“Sorry,” Spencer said automatically, folding his wings behind him. It was an automatic, sympathetic reaction to Jon spreading fairy dust, he guessed. His wanted in on the action.

“No problem,” Brendon said, and sneezed again. Victoria cooed at him and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. Spencer sighed.

~*~

“So Jon said yes?” Spencer said when Ryan slipped up to join him on an early crocus bud, his arms curling long and gangly around his knobby knees.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Ryan replied, rubbing at his nose. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.”

“I shouldn’t have come looking for you,” Spencer demurred.

“I should have told you,” Ryan countered. “It was just kind of a spontaneous thing.”

“Really,” Spencer said. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t even that it had been an image he needed to bleach from his brain or anything; it had just felt…private.

Ryan leaned against him a little. “I really want a seed pod,” he said softly.

“I know,” Spencer answered, bumping his shoulder gently.

Ryan sighed. “It’s just, every year, I always break up with whoever I’m with right before pollination season starts.”

“That’s because you turn into a raging, stir-crazy bitch during the winter,” Spencer informed him honestly.

Ryan bumped him back with slightly more force than was strictly necessary, but not enough to knock Spencer from his perch. “I know,” he said finally, and sighed again.

“Hey,” Spencer said soothingly. “It’ll happen. You’ll be incubating before you know it.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said. A second later, he added, “Did you see Patrick earlier?”

Spencer grinned, face turned into the last rays of the sunset. “Yeah. His wings are already speckled.”

“Black,” Ryan confirmed. “Which means it’s Pete’s.”

This time Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “Patrick’s going to kill him,” he said. “Every year, he says no, and every year…”

“Apparently it was an accident,” Ryan said solemnly. “Pete just happened to lose control and send a shower of fairy dust down over Patrick’s head as he was walking underneath a tree branch.”

“Uh-huh,” Spencer said skeptically. He couldn’t imagine a pollination season without an angry, red-faced Patrick, though. It was like a tradition.

“I think he got Joe, too,” Ryan said thoughtfully. “I wonder if he’ll have two this year.”

If Pete ended up dividing his time between two seed pods, Spencer thought, Patrick really would kill him.

Ryan had his wings spread halfway open, peering sideways over his shoulder. “Didn’t take?” Spencer asked, leaning slightly further away so that Ryan could get a better look.

Ryan frowned. “I can’t tell yet,” he said. His wings gave a despondent little flutter. “They look a little darker, I think.”

Spencer refrained from pointing out that the sun was sinking low on the horizon, and that everything was looking a little darker by the moment. “Maybe in the morning,” he suggested. He stood up, stretching out, and said, “Have you seen Brendon?”

“Not for a while, but he might be with Jon,” Ryan suggested. “He was with Greta earlier, but I think she and Victoria disappeared a while back.”

“We could always follow the sound of the sneezing,” Spencer suggested.

“I resent that,” Brendon’s voice carried up from beneath them, a second before the crocus shook violently and he appeared by their side. “Are you calling me a peeping tom? I’m not the one who interrupted someone else’s cross-pollination today.” He gave Spencer a pointed look as he said it, although it was a cheerful enough, without menace. “I was just looking for Jon, but I found you guys instead. Are we sleeping out under the stars tonight?”

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Still too cold,” he said. “Maybe soon.”

“I’ll stay out with you,” Spencer offered. Ryan was right, it was still cold, but Spencer liked the bite of it. Besides, within half an hour he’d have Brendon plastered against him to keep warm, and cuddling with Brendon was like sleeping next to the sun.

“Cool,” Brendon said, bouncing. He made a move to drop back to the ground, and then stopped, frozen. Spencer frowned, staring back, but Brendon wasn’t looking directly at him. “Spencer,” Brendon said slowly, “are you…?”

“What?” Spencer asked. He was abruptly nervous, and wary. His wings flattened back behind him, but Brendon caught at his hand, saying, “No, no,” until Spencer spread them again.

Brendon’s fingers traced wonderingly down the side of his wing. “There’s purple,” he said. “I see purple.”

“What?” It was Ryan this time, saving Spencer from having to say it. “No you don’t. It’s just dark.”

“It’s probably dark green,” Spencer offered. His wings had been heavy with dust since the morning, since he walked in on Jon and Ryan, clinging to his wings and ready to fall. He should probably shake them out before he spent the night out with Brendon, just in case. Neither of them would sleep if Brendon was up sneezing all night.

“No, it’s not,” Brendon insisted. “It’s purple. Look, here.”

Spencer started to turn around, annoyed at Brendon for plucking at him, but Ryan stopped him, holding him still while he and Brendon both spread their hands out on Spencer’s wing. It jittered under their touch, uneasy, and finally he twitched it away.

Ryan’s expression had gone blank. “It is,” he said. “I think he’s right.”

“I’m not incubating,” Spencer snapped, yanking his wings back tight against his body. It wasn’t even possible, really. He hadn’t been with anyone like that, hadn’t spent any time immersed in a cloud of dust with his wings spread in welcome. He’d only been around Jon and Ryan for a handful of seconds, not even that, and certainly not enough to have caught enough of Jon’s fairy dust to cross-pollinate.

Brendon’s eyes were wide and awed. “I think you are,” he breathed.

“I’m _not,_ ” Spencer warned, glowering. Brendon didn’t take the hint and back off, but then he rarely did. Ryan was still frozen, holding himself stiff and aloof. Spencer fought the sickening swoop in his stomach and said flatly, “Ryan’s right, it’s too cold. I’m sleeping in tonight.”

It took him a while to climb down from the crocus and stalk away, but he didn’t hear either of them calling him back. There wasn’t enough light to see properly now; Spencer could barely find his way back to his favorite bush, let alone check his wings for discoloration. It was all a mistake, anyway. In the morning, everything would be fine.

~*~

“This is your fault,” Spencer hissed, jabbing a pointed finger into Jon’s chest. “You did this.”

Jon looked remarkably surprised to be under attack, particularly first thing in the morning. “What?” he asked, strategically backing out of finger-poking range and putting a tiny flower stem between them.

Spencer let his wings flare out to the sides, bright and angry where they caught the morning light. It was still early yet, but no amount of shaking, dunking or brushing had managed to get rid of the tiny purple specks creating an unsightly blemish on Spencer’s lovely pink and green wings.

“What?” Jon said again, and then his eyes widened, and he said, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Spencer echoed, advancing in measured steps. The flower stem crumpled beneath his feet. “ _Oh?_ You _cross-pollinated_ with me, Jon.”

Jon looked apologetic, at least, but nowhere near the groveling point Spencer really craved. “Technically, I was cross-pollinating with Ryan,” he pointed out. “You just intercepted.”

“If I do not find a way to _get this out of me,_ ” Spencer glowered, “you had better step up and take responsibility.”

Jon blinked, startled. “Oh, hey,” he said in surprise. “Do you want to incubate together? I mean, I can’t carry it for you or anything, but we could…”

“No,” Spencer bit off. “No, I do _not_ want to incubate with you, thank you, you’ve done enough.” He shook his wings out, as they were currently cocked at crooked and alarming angles behind his back, and growled, “Where’s William?”

Jon opened his mouth, obviously thought better of whatever he was going to say in trying to persuade Spencer to have a seed pod with him, closed it, then opened it again and said, “I haven’t seen him. But that’s not all that unusual. You know how he is at the beginning of spring.”

Spencer did know. William hated the idea of cross-pollinating with a sincere, burning fervor. He avoided everyone else like they were a polite plague when there was fairy dust in the air, and tended to stand on low-hanging tree branches and make impassioned speeches about the innate injustice of a race that gave you no control over your own biological processes.

Rumor also had it, though, that he’d found a way of getting rid of the dust before it clung, since two years ago there had been an unfortunate incident during which Pete had mistaken his target and tackled William in a cloud of fairy dust from the ambush point of a rose bush. Pete had lived in fear for the next two days, until he managed to carry out his original plan of attack and William passed the satisfaction of holding Pete’s life in his hands over to Patrick.

Spencer needed William. If not to get rid of the dust, which he was gradually – albeit very slowly – becoming resigned to, then at least for a good bitch session about how all fairies should be entitled to a reproductive _choice._

No one else understood. Brendon was already helping Greta pick out tree branches on which to hang her not-yet-conceived cocoon, and Brendon was _allergic_ to pollination.

Jon was still looking at him, Spencer realized, with a mix of sympathetic tenderness and trepidation. Spencer let his wings flare out again, just to see Jon stumble hastily backwards, and hissed, “This isn’t over yet.”

He didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but he got a great deal of satisfaction out of saying it, which was really all that mattered.

He saw Patrick across the meadow, busily doing fairy-things while he ignored Pete hovering behind him. It was usually hard to tell with Patrick for the first few days, but he was definitely incubating, based on the black streaks smeared across his yellow wings. Patrick always went through pollination season looking like a cranky bumblebee.

Ryan was harder to find, but that was because he was sulking in a daffodil. Spencer sighed, then crawled in beside him and tried not to get his ass covered in yellow crust.

“You’re angry with me,” he guessed, because he knew how Ryan’s brain worked, and Spencer was the one with purple polka-dots on his wings.

“No,” Ryan said, and then sulked for a few minutes before saying, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said sincerely. “Ry, I really am.”

“You don’t even want a seed pod,” Ryan muttered, glaring at Spencer mutinously. “Why did you have to steal mine?”

“It was an accident,” Spencer protested. “Really. It won’t happen again. You should ask Jon again, give it another try. I’ll even stand guard for you.” He held up his hand, pinky finger outstretched.

Ryan didn’t budge for a few seconds, but eventually he unfurled slightly and curled his little finger around Spencer’s. “You think he will?” he asked slowly.

Spencer scoffed. “Of course he will. He agreed once already, didn’t he? And he’s obviously fertile, so…” Spencer shivered his wings out a bit. “Good choice.”

Ryan squeezed his knee. “It’ll be okay,” he said, in what was for Ryan an unprecedented show of sympathy. Then his eyes lit up a little. “We could do it together, Spence. We could be incubation buddies. So you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes only because Ryan was so obviously sincere. And enthusiastic. “Joy,” he said dryly. “I can’t wait.”

~*~

“Brendon,” Spencer said loudly. He was tired and he was cranky and he was _incubating,_ for fuck’s sake, so he wasn’t in the mood for games. Ryan was avoiding him, and if anyone knew where and why, it would be Brendon.

Brendon’s eyes got very wide and spooked. He was balancing on one toe, hovering just about the ground and ready to take off at a second’s notice. “Spencer,” he said. “Ah. Hi.”

“Where is he?” Spencer asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It took just a little more effort today to push his hip out, which only made him scowl harder. He was going to get _fat._ Ryan could get over his hissy fit and just deal, already, because Spencer clearly had the worse end of these circumstances.

“Right now he’s a little…” Brendon began tentatively, which was as far as he got before Ryan’s head poked out of a nearby pile of acorn caps and Spencer stopped paying attention to him.

“What do you want?” Ryan grumped. There was a surly set to his jaw that didn’t go well with the current whimsical arrangement of his fluffed-up hair.

“I want food,” Spencer said firmly, as his stomach noisily reminded him of why he’d come in search of Ryan in the first place. “I’m starving. Do you remember where we hid those nuts? Maybe some berries, too, I’m seriously hungry.”

Brendon shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. Ryan just stared at him. “You stole my seed pod,” he said flatly. “I’m not sharing food with you, you…you…cocoon thief.”

Spencer was so surprised he almost took a step back. “Are you mad about that _again?_ ” he asked incredulously. “I thought you were going to try again today.” He paused, frowning. “Am I interrupting, is that it? Was Brendon supposed to be standing guard?” It didn’t look like there was room for another person in that pile of acorn caps, but then Ryan was pretty skinny.

“ _No,_ ” Ryan snapped. He glared in silence for a few seconds, just long enough that Spencer was about to sigh and ask again, and then he mumbled, “Jon said no.”

“What?” Spencer asked, not sure he’d heard correctly. It made no sense.

“Jon said no,” Ryan repeated. He was louder this time, defiant. Brendon was taking tiny steps backwards through the air, like he thought he could quietly disappear if they just kept snapping at each other.

“Why the hell would he say that?” Spencer asked, baffled. “He said yes. You two were going to do it.” Jon loved Ryan, he knew how important this was to him. Spencer was living proof that Jon had been ready and willing just yesterday.

“Because of you,” Ryan said, eyes narrowed venomously. “He said he wouldn’t do it because of you. Thanks a lot, Spencer.”

“Wait, what?” Spencer said. He still felt like he was missing something critical, something obvious. Something that would make the rest of this make _sense._ “Ryan…”

Ryan’s head had disappeared beneath the acorn caps again. “Go away,” he called, muffled inside his refuge. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Ryan,” Spencer tried again, but Ryan just swept the whole pile of acorn caps down on top of himself in a rattling heap and refused to come out.

Spencer tried to turn his ire on Brendon, but Brendon had taken off when the acorn caps came down and was halfway across the clearing.

Spencer squared his shoulders and went to find Jon.

Jon was actually relatively easy to find, all things considered. He was smiling and laughing with three other fairies, all of whom disappeared the second they saw Spencer coming. Spencer wondered if it was his pissed-off glare, or the fact that his wings were smeared with ugly streaks of purple war paint.

“Why won’t you have a seed pod with Ryan?” he demanded, crossing his arms again. He knew better than to try the hip thing now; he felt too bulky and awkward as it was.

Jon didn’t seem all that surprised, all things considered. His tone was perfectly even when he answered, “I’m having one with you.”

“No,” Spencer said clearly, “you’re not. You’re having one with Ryan. I’m having one by myself. Thanks to you, obviously, but we’re still not _doing it together._ You can cross-pollinate with more than one fairy in a single season,” he pointed out, exasperated. “There’s no rule or anything, you’re not incubating. You can still shake as much dust as you like.”

Jon shook his head, and managed to somehow look soulful instead of just plain stupid. “That’s not how it should work. I have a responsibility to you now.”

“Oh my god,” Spencer said impatiently. “Are you actively _trying_ to make my life worse? Haven’t you done enough?”

Jon looked rather taken aback. “I’m saying that I’ll stand beside you,” he said with a certain amount of confusion. “I can’t support both you and Ryan at the same time, and I’ve already…”

“No,” Spencer cut him off, jabbing a finger in the air. Jon jerked back reflexively. “No, no. You’re not screwing this up for him. _I’m_ not screwing this up for him. He’s my best friend, you don’t get to make me the reason he’s unhappy.”

Jon squared his shoulders and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Fngah,” Spencer said, and stomped off to find William.

~*~

William, it turned out, was nowhere to be found. Spencer spent a good deal of the morning trampling flower seedlings and stalking about hacking apart blades of grass, but at the end of it, he was no closer than he had been at the beginning.

Gabe was his next best bet, because even during pollination season when William wouldn’t let other fairies within ten feet of him, Gabe couldn’t take more than two days of being apart. Gabe, however, was missing as well, and it only took another three circuits of the meadow for Spencer to reach that conclusion.

His next step was to approach the group sitting in a circle on a particularly large toadstool, all lazing about in the sunlight with varying degrees of nonchalance. Ryland raised an eyebrow at his approach, but he didn’t take the straw out of his mouth, so it must have been Alex who asked, “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Gabe?” Spencer asked, because asking after William would probably be pointless.

“Hmm,” Alex replied thoughtfully, and looked to Ryland. Ryland chewed for a bit as he mulled it over and then looked to Nate, who considered for a moment and shook his head. “Sorry,” Alex said, returning his attention to Spencer. “Haven’t seen him.”

“I thought he was just here, though,” Nate said, twisting around. “Didn’t we just see him?”

“I think that was yesterday,” Ryland corrected, tapping the bit of straw against his teeth. “We might have seen him yesterday.”

“Maybe Victoria’s seen him,” Alex suggested. “Is she around?”

Ryland waggled his wings suggestively. “Victoria is busy. She may have seen him, though, while she wasn’t busy. Shall we rustle her up?”

“I don’t think she’ll like that very much,” Nate inserted warily. “Maybe we should ask someone else.”

“If he’s around, Adam might have seen him,” Alex suggested. “I can’t think of who else…”

“Wait, shh,” Ryland urged, and the group fell silent. Ryland waited one more second and then yelled “Gabriel!”

They all waited for a few moments, and then Ryland turned back to Spencer and said, “Sorry, not here.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said slowly, his wings spreading as he turned to go.

Alex suddenly looked alarmed. “You’re not incubating his seed pod, are you? Does he know?”

Ryland muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Does _William_ know,” but Spencer couldn’t swear to it.

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m not. Just wanted to ask him a question. Thanks, though.”

Ryland lifted his straw in good-natured farewell. Spencer turned again, took a few steps and nearly ran into Jon.

“Hey,” Jon said awkwardly. “I was just wondering if there was anything I could do for you.”

Spencer was suddenly aware of three curious pairs of eyes burning into the back of his head. “No,” he said, starting to walk so that they could have this conversation – if there was going to be one – somewhere more private. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Okay,” Jon said, falling into step a half-pace behind him. “If there is, though, let me know.”

“Can you make Ryan start talking to me again?” Spencer inquired, one eyebrow arched dubiously. “Because I think that’s it.”

Jon hesitated, and then offered carefully, “I brought you a snapdragon.” When Spencer just stared at him, he added, “For the morning sickness?”

“Oh god,” Spencer said faintly. “There’s going to be morning sickness.”

Jon’s face was leaping about between wincing and an expression of concern. “Probably,” he admitted. “It’s common in ninety-nine percent of incubating fairies.”

“Oh god,” Spencer said, because now his brain was catching him up on all of the other symptoms as well, and it wasn’t a particularly happy picture. Until now, he’d mostly been thinking, _I’m going to get fat,_ and not without a certain amount of venom.

“It’s not really all that bad,” Jon offered, and when Spencer turned to eye him suspiciously, he added, “I hear?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and stalked off to sulk. Just in case, he took the snapdragon with him.

~*~

Spencer was horny. He was horny and he was _incubating_ and getting himself off three times a day just wasn’t cutting it. Everything had started _tingling._

“I want sex,” he told Greta as they dipped their toes into a puddle of dew together. “Lots of sex. Huge amounts of sex.”

“Mmm,” Greta agreed, her hand curved over her belly as if to keep it from falling into the puddle as well. She was almost exactly as round as Spencer was, which wasn’t too bad, yet. It took a little more effort to get from here to there, but he was being lazy anyway, these days.

“I’m keeping Victoria busy,” Greta told him, splashing her feet a little. “It’s the hormones. She’s not exactly complaining, though.”

“I want sex,” Spencer said again, and he meant it to come out matter-of-fact, but it sounded a little like a lament out loud. He was already nauseous in the mornings, and in another week he wouldn’t be able to walk upright. He felt like he was getting the shitty side of this incubation deal.

Greta patted his hand. “I know,” she said sympathetically, and then beamed at him until he had to give in and smile back. She was glowing, and there were fresh flowers in her hair. It really wasn’t fair.

He was on his way over to his favorite sunbathing spot, idly considering a few hours of naptime curled up in a daffodil somewhere, when he heard Patrick’s voice rising over the murmur of insects and rustling leaves.

“I am not going be dragged around on a leaf for two weeks!” Patrick was yelling, as Spencer finally came within sight of them. “Pete!”

“It’s ingenious,” Pete argued, soothing. He was tugging a full-grown maple leaf behind him, waggling the stem for emphasis. “It’s like a sleigh. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

Spencer winced. Patrick tended to blow up early, past the point that he could balance using his wings, and he looked within a few days of that now. Spencer straightened up almost without thinking about it, determined to be upright for as long as possible before his stomach overbalanced him. No one would be dragging him around on a maple leaf, that was for sure.

Just in case Jon got any ideas, Spencer tracked him down immediately to make this clear. “No leaf sleighs,” he ordered, coming to a halt and crossing his arms in front of Jon. It was kind of awkward; he had to fold them higher now, on the little shelf made by his belly. He tried to make his glare twice as intimidating to make up for it.

Jon blinked at him, bemused. “Okay,” he agreed.

“And no getting people to carry me places like I’m a hammock,” Spencer pressed, because that had been Pete’s ill-fated idea last season, and it had been an unmitigated disaster.

“Sure,” Jon agreed. He paused, then said, “I’m probably going to need to bring you stuff, then.”

“Yes,” Spencer agreed, then changed his mind and said, “No. I’ll have Brendon do it. Or Ryan.” Ryan still wasn’t speaking to him, but it was fine. Once Spencer was unable to walk and a complete invalid, he’d have to shape up.

Jon’s eyes crinkled a little bit at the corners. “What about a domesticated grasshopper?” he asked, and if Spencer didn’t know better, he’d have sworn Jon got that idea from Brendon. Only yesterday, Brendon had suggested a domesticated cricket.

“No,” Spencer said vehemently. “No insects. I want to maintain some level of dignity.”

Stupid Greta, he thought. She had that extra vertebra that women had. She’d probably be fine. And having lots of sex while she was at it.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Jon asked, solicitous as always. “More snapdragons?”

“No,” Spencer said immediately, and added for good measure, “And no flying or gliding apparatus made out of spider-silk and other questionable materials.”

“Pete?” someone asked behind him, and Spencer turned to see Mikey yawning, bleary and half-awake. Alicia was right behind him, both arms wrapped around Mikey’s rounded stomach and grinning.

“Not this year,” Spencer assured them. “This year he’s making a sleigh out of leaves.”

Mikey blinked a few times. “Oh hey,” he said in surprise. “That might actually work for once.”

~*~

“I’ve changed my mind,” Spencer said. “There is something you can do.”

Jon seemed to be caught somewhere between relieved and worried, probably because Spencer had cornered him against a tree trunk. The snapdragons he’d been holding out in offering were wilting a bit between them. “Yes?”

“Sex,” Spencer said. “I think we should have sex.”

Jon’s eyes widened. He clutched the snapdragons a little tighter to his chest. “What?”

“You’re responsible for this,” Spencer told him, with some irritation. “You’re the one who’s screwed up my hormones, and are therefore responsible for my physical and emotional well-being.”

Jon looked woeful. “You’ve been talking to William again,” he said.

Spencer hadn’t, actually, as William was still incommunicado, but he did still remember that speech. It had been a particularly memorable one, directed from a safe height at Pete after yet another unfortunate incident involving Patrick, and it had gone on for quite a long time.

“He’s a friend,” Spencer said, crossing his arms. His stupid stomach got in the way again; he was sure by this point it was expanding hourly.

“That doesn’t mean you should actually listen to him,” Jon said.

“Cross-pollination is a promise between two people to do their best to love, support and nourish a seed pod to the best of their ability, so long as they are both capable,” Spencer continued.

Jon sighed. “And Gerard, too.”

Spencer took advantage of his distraction to flatten him out against the tree trunk. “Sex, Jon,” he said in a low, serious tone, digging his fingers into the bark beside Jon’s head. “It’s currently vital to my health and well-being.”

There was a war going on in Jon’s eyes between desire and reluctance. Spencer leaned in a little closer and willed desire to win. “I don’t know…” Jon began.

“Jon,” Spencer snapped before the battle could be lost. He took a deep breath, let it out again, and tried to be more seductive and less ragingly hormonal. “I’ve seen you looking at me.”

“That wasn’t…” Jon tried again, which was a complete lie. Spencer had known for months – since last autumn, even – that Jon had been watching him. Ryan had noticed too, and when Ryan noticed something, it was practically a beacon of obviousness.

“I want,” Spencer said, very low and close, “to fuck you.”

Jon cleared his throat and made an abortive move that might have been trying to move to a safer distance before he remembered the tree trunk. “I thought we could move into the same rosebush,” he said weakly. “See each other across the leaves once in a while. Start small.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. He was two and a half weeks away from having a seed pod and Jon was _courting_ him? “Wait,” he said suddenly, eyes narrowing. “Is this because I’m fat now?”

Jon’s whole face went comically shocked. “What?”

“Because you did this,” Spencer continued grimly, pinning Jon to the tree with his belly and flattening his palms out on either side of Jon’s head. “So if you’re going to tell me now that you’re not interested because I’m not _pretty_ anymore…”

“That’s not…no,” Jon managed weakly. “I just wanted us to have something first.”

Spencer ground his teeth. “We’re having a seed pod,” he said. He tried and failed to resist rubbing a little against Jon’s hip. “I don’t want to share a fucking flower with you, I want to _fuck._ ”

He rubbed a little harder, rolling his hips, and watched Jon’s resistance crumble into dust. A second later, he had the satisfaction of Jon’s mouth on his, tongue sliding hot between his lips. Spencer made a pleased noise and bit down, and Jon nearly knocked them both over trying to pin Spencer against the tree.

Jon finally pulled away from his attempts to swallow Spencer’s tongue, hair hopelessly tousled and lips red and swollen. Spencer had to hold himself back from just rutting against Jon up against the tree trunk.

“Where?” Jon asked a little distractedly.

Spencer pulled back and grabbed Jon’s hand, yanking him away from the tree. “Follow me.”

~*~

  
Jon smelled like musk and damp earth and, inexplicably, citrus. “Have you found tangerines?” Spencer asked, without actually removing his mouth from the crease of Jon’s thigh. “Are you holding out on me?”

“Uh?” Jon managed, and then lifted his hips helpfully when Spencer decided he wanted to get two handfuls of Jon’s ass instead of pursuing the tangerine issue.

“I want to fuck you,” Spencer told Jon’s cock, licking a stripe of encouragement up the shaft. “Over and over again. But mostly now.”

“Sure,” Jon said a little breathlessly, spreading his legs. Spencer was pleased that he was so indulgent. He was also so hard he ached, but luckily the combination of blowing, rimming and fingering meant that Jon didn’t make him wait, just hooked his heels behind Spencer’s thighs and pulled him in.

“This isn’t going to work soon,” Spencer muttered, peering down to line himself up and trying to suck in his swelling belly. Jon inhaled, probably to say something about how soon Spencer was thinking, but Spencer pushed in and his words got lost in the exhale.

“Fuck me,” Jon said, not like Spencer needed any encouragement. He’d been horny for what felt like _years_ , and touching himself only went so far. His entire body was screaming for this.

It was fast and hard and maybe a little rough, but Jon didn’t seem to complaining, judging by the amount of noise he was making. Spencer had never figured Jon would be so loud. He didn’t have too much time to think about, though, because Jon also kept doing things like grabbing his ass and squeezing, which was fucking up Spencer’s rhythm. He expressed his frustration by grinding all the way in until his balls slapped Jon’s ass, but Jon didn’t seem to notice that it was a complaint.

Spencer was normally a very considerate partner, but his thrusting reached a frenzy much earlier than usual and he ended up collapsing on top of Jon before he’d even remembered to stick a hand between them. He thought Jon might have, but it was hard to tell. Whatever, Spencer could take care of it in a minute. This round was for him, anyway, he was the one incubating here.

Jon made a sound that Spencer chose to interpret as inquisitive rather than ‘squashed.’ “Mrgh,” Spencer said, rolling awkwardly to the side. His whole body was tingling, little sparks dancing up and down his skin. He lay on his side next to Jon, still breathing hard, his wings giving little fluttery twitches in the aftershocks.

Jon was still hard, Spencer discovered upon peering down, but also seemed content to take his time. He was stroking Spencer’s arm, soothing, and when Spencer made a contented noise, Jon stretched out a bit further and started rubbing his wing.

This time, the twitch wasn’t an aftershock. Spencer held still, but Jon kept stroking, and his wing fluttered like a brainless, simpering virgin. He was briefly shocked, before he decided to just enjoy the sensation. His wings had never been an erogenous zone before, but right now Jon had his hand spread out over the surface, pressing gently, and if Spencer hadn’t just fucked Jon into a sweaty heap, he would be doing it right now.

His cock wasn’t quite as interested as the rest of him, or possibly it just needed more recovery time. “Fuck,” he groaned, pushing back against Jon’s hands, moving closer to rub against him. “Jon.”

“Mmm?” Jon inquired, in that lazy, sleepy, just-fucked rumble that meant _Again?_

“Yes,” Spencer said, rutting more frantically now, and then realized that no matter how turned on the rest of him was, his cock wasn’t there yet, and changed his answer to a deflated, “No.”

Jon ran his greedy hands down Spencer’s spine and squeezed his ass again, and Spencer let him for a few seconds before he made an irritated noise to demand Jon’s hands back on his wings. He was still tingling, turned on and flushed and ready to go, and this whole erection thing had never been an inconvenience before.

“Want to wait?” Jon asked, still sounding satisfyingly fucked-out, and Spencer thought it over before he straddled Jon and said, “No.”

Jon was still hard. Spencer wasn’t all that keen on bottoming, but he would take it, right now. He tried wrestling Jon into submission, but Jon kept protesting about preparation and being gentle and finally Spencer tried to roll onto his back and tell Jon to just fuck him already, which obviously didn’t work well either.

“Ugh,” Spencer grunted, frustrated, but Jon’s hands were on him again, one stroking his wing while the other nudged at his hip to roll him over, and he forgot to be cranky in the wave of bliss that followed.

Hands and knees was not the most comfortable position in the world, but he didn’t even care when Jon pushed inside of him and started moving. His wings spread out, a startled reflex, while his body rode the strange sensation of being slickly penetrated and gradually started to relax into it. It wasn’t so bad after all, he thought, closing his eyes and rocking back. A little odd, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He was almost enjoying it.

Then, “Ready?” Jon asked, and pulled out.

Spencer opened his eyes and frowned, even though Jon couldn’t see him, pushing back against the air. “Why did you stop?” he asked, a little miffed. It had just been getting good there at the end. “Are you finished already?”

There was a pause, and then Jon said, “That was a finger.”

“Oh, Spencer said, glad that his position hid the red staining his cheeks, and then _“Oh,”_ because Jon was pushing in again, and that definitely wasn’t a finger.

Jon fucking him felt amazing. Not that Spencer would trade in the other way, because that was good too, really good, but this felt much better than he’d expected. The tingling feeling was turning into a low, burning itch, one that he could feel all the way down to his toes, and Jon kept touching his wings, stroking them. Spencer shuddered and dropped his head forward, swaying with the rhythm.

At some point he opened his eyes, dazed, and saw the shower of purple dust floating down around them. Too late, he thought with a certain wry humor, damage already done. Then Jon came, creating a fresh flurry of dust, and Spencer let his eyes close again and stopped thinking about it.

He was quite content to just lie there afterwards, basking in satiation, but Jon’s hands kept roaming, almost lazily, touching Spencer’s skin until the tingle started again, creeping outwards to every inch of him. Spencer groaned, and finally worked himself around to rut against Jon’s thigh.

Jon raised his eyebrows, but didn’t fight when Spencer pushed him back and climbed on top of him to start sucking on his neck. He made a vaguely curious, breathy moaning sound and reached for Spencer again.

Spencer bit his shoulder, spread Jon’s ass beneath his hands and said, “More.”

~*~

Spencer was doing just fine, all things considered, until the day Patrick tipped over and couldn’t get up again. There was a lot of yelling (Patrick) and a lot of flailing (Pete) and Brendon buzzing around like a distressed dragonfly above their heads while Spencer just stood and stared.

That was going to happen to him. Any day now, his stomach was going to become heavier than his wings could hold, and he was going to be flat on his back for two weeks like a complete invalid. There was no way to avoid it. He was going to end up just like Patrick, red-faced and shouting and waving his fists in the air but totally unable to get up and walk away.

Spencer turned around and started walking. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, exactly, but he needed to get _away._

He got a reasonable distance away, at least, and then realized that he also needed to breathe. The little choked noises he was currently making weren’t doing wonders for his respiratory pattern.

“Hey, woah,” a familiar voice said nearby. There was a cool hand on his neck, then, and ten tanned fairy toes in his field of vision. “Don’t put your head between your legs, you’ll fall over.”

“I know,” Spencer said, and started laughing. He was maybe a little bit hysterical, but that was okay, because there was no one around to see him right now except for whoever was holding him upright. He risked a glance up once his eyes had stopped watering. “Gabe. Hi.”

“Spence,” Gabe returned, squeezing his shoulder. “Want to sit down?”

Spencer did, very much. He straightened up and took a few more deep breaths, and then made it over to the nearest suitable fallen branch and sat down heavily. He was still a little dizzy, but it wasn’t too bad, now. There were no black spots in his field of vision.

“So,” Gabe said conversationally, sitting down next to him. “You got yourself knocked up.”

“It was an accident,” Spencer protested, curling one hand over his protruding stomach. He managed two more deep breaths before he blurted out, “I’m not going to be able to _walk._ ”

Gabe made a sympathetic face. “Well, no,” he admitted. “But that’s the worst of it. Just think how nice it will be to fly again after that.”

The world tilted sideways a little. “Oh god,” Spencer said, his wings beating a little in blind panic. “I can’t _fly._ ”

“Hey, woah, breathe,” Gabe ordered, pushing Spencer down gently until his head was between his knees again. “Deep breaths, nice and slow.”

“I’m going to die,” Spencer informed him from his extremely undignified position near Gabe’s crossed ankles.

“Nah, it’s not that bad,” Gabe assured him, rubbing the back of Spencer’s neck a little. It felt nice. Spencer couldn’t remember Gabe ever having a seed pod, though, so he wasn’t sure Gabe was qualified to soothe him about the trials and rewards of his condition. He squinted up skeptically to make this view clear, but Gabe just chuckled. “Hey, I’ve incubated a few seed pods in my time. B.W.,” he added cryptically. “I’ve been around. Just keep breathing.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said. He straightened up slowly, relieved when the world didn’t go crooked again. “Where have you been?” he asked, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t seen Gabe since before the last frost.

Gabe shrugged. “Oh, here and there. Checking in on things.” He grinned. “You’re not the only one to have an accident this season, you know. Frank and Gerard have somehow managed to cross-pollinate _each other._ ”

“Really?” Spencer said, surprised.

Gabe held up his hands. “Swear to god. They both got really excited about a caterpillar or something, I don’t know. Lyn and Jams have taken it in stride, they’re all living cozily in that abandoned sparrow’s nest from last year so that those incubating can be comfortable and those not incubating can fuss.” He waggled his eyebrows and added, “Bet _they’re_ going to have a few fun weekends, huh?”

Spencer started to laugh, but was cut off by the sudden painful lurching of his abdomen. “Oh, fuck,” he said in shock, curling over the bulge of the seed pod.

Gabe’s hand found the back of his neck again, cool and steadying. “Cocooning,” he guessed. “A little early, maybe, but you’re just about on schedule for it. You should get back home, lie down for a while.”

“Thanks,” Spencer managed. The roiling wave of sickness had passed, leaving him slightly shaky but clear-headed. He made it up to his feet with Gabe’s help, and noted with a sinking feeling that his wings were having to beat triple-time just to keep him upright.

“Don’t mention it,” Gabe said. “You want someone to walk you back?”

Spencer considered, but the sick feeling hadn’t returned, and it wasn’t all that far to the clearing. “No, thanks,” he said, and then remembered why he’d been looking for Gabe a while back and twisted around. “Hey, have you seen William?”

“He was just here,” Gabe said. “You missed him by mere minutes. Can’t remember where he was headed, but I’ll let him know you’re looking for him, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Spencer said gratefully. It wouldn’t do him much good at all, at this point, but at least he could bitch with someone about the situation for a while.

Gabe gave him a cheery wave and took off, disappearing back into the trees. Spencer pulled his shoulders back and started walking.

~*~

“Ryan,” Spencer tried again, for the fifth or sixth time. _“Ryan.”_

Ryan finally emerged from the owl knot in the tree trunk, scowling. “What?” he demanded.

Spencer crossed his arms and tried to look as bitchy as possible for someone who was a few hours away from being an invalid. “Are you just going to keep not talking to me?” he asked.

Ryan glared down at him. “I don’t know, are you still carrying my seed pod?” he challenged.

Spencer threw his hands up in the air, and then hastily dropped then again before he lost his precarious balance. “And let me tell you what a joy that is. I have a seed pod fucking cocooning in my stomach, I can’t fly, and I’m going to be like this for another _two weeks_ before I go on some sort of demented chemical-induced acid trip and squeeze this thing out.”

Ryan’s look just got stonier. “That’s nice, Spencer,” he spat. “I’m sorry living out my dream is such a _hardship_ for you. I can’t imagine who would want to be in your position, it’s not like it’s a _blessing_ or anything.”

“You can have your blessing, asshole!” Spencer yelled up at him. Ryan’s squinchy face disappeared back into the tree, and Spencer fumed silently at it for a good three minutes before his stomach rolled over again and he thought he’d better sit down.

He made it to a nearby mushroom circle before he lost his balance, flailed, overbalanced, and sat down hard on the ground. It took him a minute to get his wind back, and when he did, it was to the dismayed realization that he couldn’t get up again. Also his ass hurt.

He sat there for a while having a pity-party of one, and only looked up when he heard a rustle from the tall grass nearby. Brendon’s face appeared between the blades a few seconds later, and he looked both surprised and cautiously relieved.

“Spence,” he said, working his way through the grass to Spencer’s side. “I heard the yelling. Everything okay?”

“My best friend is an asshole,” Spencer said sourly. He paused, then added with a judicious amount of bitterness, “And I can’t stand up.”

Brendon dropped down onto the ground next to him, looking sympathetic. “That sucks,” he said solemnly.

“It really does,” Spencer agreed. He looked over at Brendon and finally drudged up the empathy to ask, “How’s Patrick?”

Brendon shrugged a little. “He can’t walk. Pete keeps trying to talk him into the leaf-sleigh idea, but it’s not working. I think he’s mostly resigned, though. He’s done this a lot before.” Brendon’s eyes skittered sideways, spectacularly unsubtle as always. “It’s probably a lot harder the first time.”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighed. He poked at a baby mushroom with his toes and asked, “Would you, ever?”

There was a long silence after that, but when Spencer looked over, Brendon was just contemplating. “I think so,” he said slowly. “I mean, if anyone ever asked me. I don’t even know if I can, I mean, I sneeze a lot, so.” He shrugged, smiling a little lopsided. “But I would try. Helping someone bring something new into the world, creating life.”

“Huh,” Spencer said. He contemplated his stomach for a while, and finally admitted, “I haven’t been thinking about it like that.”

Brendon grinned. “Yeah, well, I probably wouldn’t either, in your position.”

Spencer wasn’t so sure. He’d seen Brendon fluttering around Patrick and Greta.

“Until then, though,” Brendon continued, “I’m happy just being there for everyone who’s doing the hard part. Helping out where I can.” He grinned at Spencer, and Spencer found himself grinning back.

He lost the grin when he remembered why they were sitting here. “I’m going to have to crawl back to the rosebush,” he said glumly. “Or have Pete come for me with his leaf-sleigh.”

Brendon’s face twisted up in thought, and then he bit his lip. “Hey,” he offered. “I’m not sure it will work or anything, but we could always try piggyback.”

Spencer eyed him, considering. He currently outweighed Brendon twice over, but the idea was not without merit. It certainly beat crawling. “Are you sure?”

Brendon grinned, brighter than the sunlight over his head. “Definitely. Hop on, let’s give this a try.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said doubtfully. “I’m kind of big right now.”

“We’re in a magic fairy mushroom circle,” Brendon pointed out. “If it’ll work anywhere, it’ll work here.”

Spencer shook his head, grinning, but Brendon fluffed his wings impatiently until Spencer clambered awkwardly onto his back, arms linked sturdily around Brendon’s neck.

“Ready?” Brendon asked, wings beating like mad to keep them both from falling. “One, two three!”

Brendon took off through the grass, staggering crazily from side to side as he ran, and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing.

~*~

Jon and Brendon both stopped by regularly, but after two days with no change of scenery, Spencer was going out of his mind with boredom. The next time Jon stopped by with fresh berries, Spencer seized on the opportunity and pinned him to the ground.

“Maybe we should give you a break,” Jon gasped, as Spencer had to stop to catch his breath after a few minutes of athletic thrusting.

“No,” Spencer said vehemently, biting Jon’s shoulder hard enough to wring out another gasp. “I want to do it our way.”

He liked fucking Jon. Even more, he liked how it felt when Jon fucked him afterwards, when he was still oversensitive and floating on an orgasmic high. He liked the slap of their skin together, and their combined harsh breathing, and the way Jon’s hips stuttered both when Spencer came and stopped fucking him, and when he came inside of Spencer.

What he didn’t like as much was when Jon got all moon-eyed afterwards.

“I think I can feel it cocooning,” Jon whispered, his cheek pressed against Spencer’s stomach. His palm curved over Spencer’s belly button, tracking the slowly-rolling movement beneath the skin. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes,” Spencer said, irritated. “It’s _inside me._ ” The post-orgasm haze was dissolving rapidly. Spencer was not especially pleased.

“I was wondering when it would. Only another two weeks now.” Spencer opened his mouth to reply, and then was briefly put off by the fact that Jon had apparently been talking to _his stomach,_ and not him.

“Yes, two weeks,” he commented acidly. “And then it has to _come out._ Do you know how big a seed pod is?”

“So tiny,” Jon crooned, oblivious. “A fragile little life.” He looked up at Spencer, smiling goofily. “What color will its wings be, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said honestly. “It’s going to _fly away._ We might not even see it when it hatches.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it,” Jon said, in what was obviously intended to be a reassuring manner. Spencer was about to suggest that Jon either put his mouth to better use or bring Spencer some of those berries – he was starving lately, all the time – when Jon said dreamily, “Pete’s already looking at tree branches. Do you want to help me pick one out? I know it’s inconvenient for you right now, but it felt wrong, doing it without you.”

Spencer stared at him. “Jon,” he said finally, “I’m nailed to the ground for two weeks and you think it’s _inconvenient?_ ”

Jon frowned slightly, still hovering close to Spencer’s stomach. “Well, a good tree branch is important,” he said. “The cocoon has to get enough sunlight, but we need to keep it safe from predators, and…”

 _“We?”_ Spencer yelped, so high his voice cracked. “ _We_ are not doing anything. _We_ are not having this seed pod. _I_ am having this seed pod, so go away and stop looking at fucking _tree branches._ ”

He was out of breath when he finished, and Jon was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “Okay,” he said finally, hesitant. “If that’s how you…”

“Yes,” Spencer snapped, because Jon had pulled away now, but his hand was still resting proprietarily over Spencer’s stomach, reluctant to leave. Spencer yanked his outgrown leaf-coverings over him and tried to tuck them into some sort of furious order. “It is. Thank you for the berries, now please get lost.”

Jon shook his head, looking confused, but he went before Spencer had to resort to throwing things. He would have, too. Jon was being a prick and Spencer just wanted to settle in for a good long sulk where no one could see him, and no those were _not_ tears, they were…okay, maybe tears. But tears of righteous anger.

The bush rustled a little, inquisitively. “Go _away,_ Spencer snarled, wiping furiously at his eyes, but then he saw who it was and relaxed a little. “Oh. Hey, Brendon. Sorry.”

“Hey,” Brendon said softly. “Rough day?”

Spencer waved one arm around vaguely, using the other to clandestinely rub at his damp cheeks. “You know. The usual.”

“Yeah,” Brendon said. He hovered in place, obviously waiting for Spencer to pull himself together. Spencer was so grateful he almost started crying again.

“How’s Ryan?” Spencer asked finally, exhaling hard enough to force the problems out of his mind.

Brendon crept in a little closer, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “He’s good,” he said softly. “He’s, um…”

It took Spencer a second to take it in; Brendon’s posture, the way his wings curved gracefully and protectively forward, the soft glow he was radiating even out of sunlight. Spencer stared harder, until he could almost see the dappled specks on Brendon’s wings.

“Oh, fuck no,” he said flatly.

Brendon blushed, wings fluttering a little helplessly before settling again, arching towards his stomach. “It was an accident,” he admitted. “I thought about what we talked about, the other day, about helping people, and then I went to visit Ryan, and he was so sad…”

“Oh, _no,_ ” Spencer groaned. “Brendon.”

“It didn’t quite go as planned,” Brendon finished lamely, nibbling on one of his fingernails and looking guilty. “I didn’t think I could, honestly. I’m allergic.”

“Fuck,” Spencer said with feeling. He had to go see Ryan. Ryan would be beyond devastated now, he would be genuinely crushed. He had to go see Ryan, except that his stupid body couldn’t stand anymore, so he was trapped here. “Fuck.”

Brendon stood there, uncertain but serene about it, still giving off that idiotic glow of radiant happiness. Spencer hated him. He couldn’t wait for next week, when Brendon wouldn’t be glowing so much because he couldn’t fucking _walk._

“Oh,” Brendon said suddenly, wings stretching out slightly as he perked up. “I forgot. I brought you a present.”

Spencer glared at him. “It had better be good,” he said mutinously. Brendon just beamed at him. He looked about ten times more glowy when he did that. Spencer hated his life.

~*~

Scooting around on a faded, ocean-smooth seashell was not ever going to be Spencer’s favorite method of transport, but it beat crawling. Spencer was getting better at maneuvering, as well, and luckily most of his trip was marginally downhill.

Brendon offered to come with him, but Spencer knew Ryan, and some things were best done alone. Particularly with Brendon looking the way he was right now.

He found Ryan on the first try, which was a good thing, because it had taken an incredible amount of energy just to make it this far, and Spencer wasn’t sure how much further he could go. His muscles were aching in protest; they hadn’t been used this much in _ages._

“Hey,” he said, dragging himself over to where Ryan was sitting on an old tree stump, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped tight around his legs. It had been Ryan’s favorite place to hide for a long time now, and Spencer didn’t think anyone else knew about it.

Ryan’s wings fluttered weakly before flattening again into a sulky line. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you,” Spencer said. “But I can’t get up there without help, so you’d better come down here, asshole.”

Ryan didn’t move for a few minutes, but eventually he unfolded himself into lanky, drooping angles and leapt off the tree stump to land with a soft ‘whoomph’ next to Spencer’s shell.

Spencer scooted around until he was sitting up, back braced against the side of the tree stump, and then waited until Ryan stopped fidgeting and sat down as well. “I saw Brendon,” he said.

Ryan tensed, but didn’t say anything immediately. Finally he cracked a little and said in a small petulant voice, “It’s not fair.”

“No,” Spencer admitted. He leaned in a little bit, an open invitation for Ryan to move closer if he wanted. “But at least now you know that you’re not infertile, just unlucky.”

Ryan eyed him sideways, considering. Spencer gave him a half-smirking smile in return, and Ryan finally caved and pushed his bony ass over to where Spencer was sitting. “This sucks,” he sighed, resting his head against Spencer’s shoulder.

“Tell me about it,” Spencer agreed, wrapping an arm around Ryan’s knobbly shoulders. “I feel like a beached whale, and I have to pee, like, every five minutes.”

Ryan snorted against his chest. “You’re pretty fat,” he agreed.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Thanks, asshole,” he said dryly. He let them sit there for a while in silence before he said mildly, “Brendon’s going to need some help, you know. It sucks trying to do it alone.”

Ryan sat up, heaving another woebegone sigh. “I know,” he said, and then, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer said lightly. He nudged Ryan and said, “There’s always next year, you know.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. He squinted at Spencer and said, “Your wings have changed color.”

“I know,” Spencer said, shaking them out in annoyance. They’d deepened a few shades until they were nearly red, the green highlights turned almost the same color as the grass. The streaks left by Jon’s fairy dust were a deeper purple, almost black. He shook them again and complained, “I look like a watermelon.”

“What,” Ryan snickered, “you miss being pink?”

“Shut it,” Spencer snapped, nearly taking Ryan’s head off with his wing when he flicked them shut. “My wings are awesome, thanks very much.”

Ryan sobered suddenly, his hand hovering over but not quite touching Spencer’s swollen belly. “So hey,” he said hesitantly. “You’re really doing this, huh?”

Spencer eyed his stomach distastefully and flicked a bit of leafy debris out of the way. “Might as well,” he said philosophically. “After all, I’ve already come this far.”

~*~

Patrick was, as usual, the first seed pod delivery of the season, but he only beat Mikey by an hour.

“Look at them,” Spencer mused, leaning back on his elbows to watch the cocoons glistening in the tree branches above them.

Beneath the trees, Cash and a few Alexes were gathered, beating their wings to see if they were old enough yet to shake any dust loose. Gerard and Frank were still in their bird’s nest up above, leaning against one side and peering out at the cocoons, both of them the size of tulip bulbs. As Spencer looked up, Gerard caught sight of him and waved cheerfully, hand flapping over his hugely rounded belly. Jamia and Lyn were flitting among the branches, checking on the cocoons dangling from the branches.

Spencer shook his head, wondering. “All that work for something so tiny.”

“Pretty awesome, though,” Brendon commented, lounging against a flower stem nearby. He was continuing to radiate tranquility in a way that made Spencer idly consider strangling him, both hands curved lightly around the gentle bump of his belly.

“I’m going to be godparent,” Ryan announced, tilting his chin up as though Spencer would challenge him. “For both of them.”

“Dude, you’re actually the _parent_ for one of them,” Spencer pointed out, nudging his chin lazily towards Brendon. “You can’t be the parent _and_ the godparent.”

“Yes I can,” Ryan insisted, so Spencer didn’t bother arguing with him.

“You know what I want?” Spencer mused out loud. “Honeycomb and mushrooms in an orange peel sandwich.”

“That would be the most disgusting thing I’d ever heard,” Ryan told him, “If I hadn’t been there yesterday when Gerard asked if anyone could bring him some slug slime on walnuts.”

A shadow fluttered among the tree branches and their precious ornaments for a moment, and then Gabe landed at their feet, looking worn to the ground but jubilant.

“Hey,” he said with a grin, “want to see something amazing?”

“Is that a…?” Spencer began, and then cut himself off, because obviously it was. Gabe turned it over in his hands, slowly, like it was something beyond precious, and the cocoon caught enough light to shine, still damp and soft.

“I have to hang it,” Gabe said, wings already beating hard enough to lift him off the ground a few inches. “I just thought you might want to see. Isn’t it incredible? It’s perfect.”

“It’s amazing,” Spencer agreed, and Brendon and Ryan both nodded solemnly along with him. Gabe just grinned again, hard enough to make his cheeks look like they were about to split, and rose up into the thicket of branches.

Spencer looked hard, but he couldn’t see any trace of color streaking Gabe’s wings, not even a faded freckle. Ryan was obviously thinking the same thing. “I just saw him, like, two days ago,” he said slowly. “He looked exactly the same.”

“Maybe it’s not his,” Brendon offered, nibbling on his fingernail thoughtfully.

“Whose would it be?” Ryan countered, with the tiniest trace of scorn. Brendon just shrugged. “It’s still his seed pod even if he didn’t incubate it,” Ryan continued meaningfully. Spencer arched an eyebrow at him, but Ryan was busy looking innocent.

“It is amazing, though,” Brendon said a moment later, when Gabe was barely a shadow above them, flitting away and leaving his cocoon to dry in the air next to Pete’s.

“Yeah,” Spencer sighed. “It is.” Ryan was looking at him significantly, Spencer could feel it even without turning. He ignored it for as long as he could, and then sighed. “All right,” he said. “Fine.”

Ryan made a noise of triumph and stood up. Spencer craned his neck back and saw Jon approaching the tree, head tilted to look up at the jewels hanging from the branches. “Come on, Brendon,” Ryan said meaningfully.

“Wait, what?” Brendon asked, startled.

Spencer smiled as Jon wandered over, hearing Ryan’s hissed, “Come _on,_ ” right before the startled squawk of Brendon being yanked through the grass. The noise caught Jon’s attention, and he looked down from the tree right before he almost tripped over Spencer’s outstretched legs.

“Oh,” he said, obviously uncertain. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Spencer said, still smiling.

Jon smiled back, hesitantly, and made a vague gesture at the ground beside Spencer. “Mind if I sit?”

“No,” Spencer told him, patting the ground. He would have moved over, but moving was something of a chore right now since Spencer had blown up to be the size of the moon, and anyway that patch of grass wasn’t bad or anything, still squashed where Ryan had been sitting.

“Pretty incredible, isn’t it?” Jon said softly. His voice was hushed, a little awed. Spencer heard the lisp catch in the whisper and smiled a little wider.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. Any day now, that was going to be theirs up there. He thought about Brendon and Ryan, and Frank and Gerard, and about Jon. It didn’t take as much courage as he’d expected to say casually, “Ryan wants to be godparent.”

Jon looked startled, but not upset. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Spencer ducked his head, pursing his lips. “I figured I should ask you first, since it is our seed pod and all.”

When he looked up again, Jon’s eyes had widened. “Spencer…”

“I was pissed,” he said in a rush. “And I was taking it out on you, and I’m sorry. But I’m not…I’m not sorry we did it.”

Jon’s fingers were creeping out slowly towards Spencer’s, and he’d gotten a hopeful look on his face. “Not the end of the world, then?” he asked, wry.

Spencer laughed, looking away but not objecting when Jon’s hand covered his. “No,” he admitted. “Not the end of the world.”

Jon grinned and squeezed his hand. “Maybe, if you want,” he suggested, “we could do it the other way around next year.”

Spencer eyed him sideways. Jon just grinned back at him, but still with that soft, hopeful edge. He looked like Ryan, looking up at the seed pods. He looked like Brendon with one hand resting over his stomach, cradling new life.

Spencer smiled and said, “I think I might like that.”


End file.
